The sickness had come on so suddenly. He was fine just a couple of weeks ago. His eyes had been clear and his face full of life and health. Now his situation rapidly declined as he fell deeper into a coma, slowly slipping further and further away from them.
What would they do? They needed and loved him so much! He can’t leave them like this. Not like this.
They weren’t wealthy, but they had enough. But not enough to fix this. Not nearly enough to fix this. But they knew someone who could. So they sent for him. Would he come in time? Please come in time!
He will. He will come in time. After all, he loves us.
Mary wouldn’t leave her brother’s side. Holding his still, feverish hand, gazing at his face, willing her health and strength into him, she maintained her vigil. If love alone could heal the sick, Lazarus would be jumping around the room right now.
Martha couldn’t sit still for long. She cooked. She cleaned. She greeted visitors. Took coats, expressed her thanks. Offered more coffee. Her well-oiled actions were jerky now, and she couldn’t stop the trembling in her hands and the wobble in her heart. He couldn’t die. He just couldn’t. What could she do to fix this?
He would come! He would!
The two sisters waited. And then watched in disbelief as their beloved brother breathed his last. Martha gently closed his eyes and turned away as the tears ran hot down her face. Mary collapsed to the ground in a wail that shook the walls, bringing their friends running.
He didn’t come.
And now it was over. Their brother was gone forever and entombed.
Mary cried day and night, the tears rolling down her cheeks as she paced around the house talking – no, lamenting to some unseen person, sometimes with her small fists in the air, her voice raised, wrestling with Someone in her grief. Martha tried to keep busy, but the heaviness in her heart kept pulling her down to the floor in a sobbing heap too many times to count. The house was a mess and she couldn’t summon the strength or the desire to do anything.
He is here, someone said. Jesus finally showed up. But too late – way too late. Four days too late.
Martha flew out of the house, toward the tomb where they said Jesus was waiting. As she saw him through her tears, she threw herself at his feet, upbraiding him for not coming in time.
“If you had been here, my brother would not have died!” was ripped from her body and flung at Jesus like a knife. He flinched a little, taking on the full onslaught of her pain and anguish.
Mary was close behind, running toward him. The hope in her heart had faded to a faint, but still warm, coal. Would he? Could he? No, it was too late. It had been four days already. Her hope, finally extinguished, caused her to stumble at the last as she found herself gasping for breath, her fingers clutching the hem of his robe, the dust slowly settling around her.
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!” Her words, blurred by her tears, came out as a groan wrenched from the very depths of her being.
Two sisters, prostrate in their sorrow. Not able to keep it together anymore. It just hurt too much. Jesus had let them down. How could he allow this to happen?
Jesus, absorbing the heaviness of grief permeating the air; the tears, the agony, and the hopelessness, broke down and cried along with these two sisters. Two sisters who had depended on their good brother to provide for them. Who would take care of them now?
What would they do now?
Then Jesus spoke a few words. “I am the resurrection and the life.” Martha and Mary didn’t understand what he was saying. They couldn’t hear his meaning over the scream of their grief.
Then he spoke a few more words, this time loudly and in a voice full of authority. Words that changed everything for them.
“Lazarus, come out!” The words echoed around and around, bouncing off the stone walls, the power of them making every knee tremble. Martha and Mary, together, deeply draw in a ragged breath, their eyes growing wide with astonishment and then joy as their brother came out of his tomb – alive!
Some verses back in this story, the author, John, writes that Jesus intentionally stayed where he was for two more days after he received Martha’s and Mary’s summons. He waited on purpose, knowing exactly what was going to happen.
We know now why he waited. We have the gift of hindsight. We know how the story ends. But the disciples didn’t. And neither did Martha and Mary. Or Lazarus for that matter. Two sisters and a brother John says Jesus dearly loved.
If he really loved them why would he let them hurt so? Jesus knew how deep their pain was. He also knew how much Lazarus suffered before he died. Didn’t he care?
Yes, Jesus cared. He cared so very much. He also had the bigger picture in mind that was more important than their temporary pain. Let me say it again – the bigger picture was more important than their temporary pain.
What I love about this story isn’t just the happy ending, although I really love happy endings.
This story clues us in on something deeply important about how God interacts with his children.
What other God cries along with his beloved? What other God shares in our hurt because he knows what it feels like? What other God takes the time to encourage, over and over, our fainting and faithless hearts, gently lifting us up and placing us on our feet again and again?
And what other God takes the most impossible of circumstances and breathes life back into the dead?
Even when it’s beyond all hope of recovery.
Giving us back that one thing, that one so very precious thing, that means the world to us.
He counts our tears and weeps with us, then binds up our wounds and rejoices with us.
There was great sorrow when the sun rose that morning. Afterwards there was great rejoicing for many days to come.
I can hear Jesus’ laughter ringing out as he sees the joy on those once downcast faces. And I can see the sparkle in his eyes as he gazes on the face and embraces one who had been dead, but was now alive again. His friend’s eyes clear and his strength restored.
And Lazarus. He keeps looking at his hands and flexing his fingers, standing up, sitting down, walking around in circles. Everything worked. He felt fine. He felt alive. And his sisters were happy.
